Sweet Southern Sours
by Liebesbrief
Summary: A Collection of ROMY OneShots. Second OneShot, 'The White Picket Fence': '...In which Professor Xavier makes the grave mistake of asking Remy and Rogue to chose a colour to paint the white picket fence...'
1. Single Rider

**"Single Rider"  
By: **Liebling  
**Published On:** 18 March 2007  
"**Sweet Southern Sours"  
**A Collection of _ROMY_ One-Shots

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the later-mentioned characters or anything that sounds remotely cool because I am but a poor and lazy teenager temporarily living in a foreign country. Don't sue. Merci.

**Genre: **Romance/Humour/General  
**Summary: **Rogue tries to ride the rides by herself but the Institute mistakes her search for solitude as depression and refuse to give her space. Unfortunately, Remy also falls into this category.

**X**

It had been amusing losing Kurt in the mirror house, getting Kitty sick on the roller coasters, destroying Jean and Scott at the games but _really_—everyone was getting on her nerves.

The Professor had said the fair had come to town and suggested that the students take an evening off from training to enjoy themselves after Apocalypse.

Rogue could only see herself going with Ritsy several months ago…but now it was totally out of the question. She had opted for housesitting instead.

However, the professor must have hinted something to the others because they absolutely refused to let Rogue out of their sight. She had been dragged all over the park to do various games, activities and rides, trying her _very best _not to lose her temper or even lash out at her friends.

But her plan was failing, and quickly.

She supposed that it didn't look too good either when earlier the tag on the inside of her glove was bothering her so she opted for nicking a knife from one of the stands and try to cut it from the seem. However, to a passer-by, like Katherine Pryde, for example it rather looked like…

"ROGUE! LIKE OMIGOD! CUTTING IS NOT THE ANSWER!"

And it had all been down hill after that.

So now, after two hours of trying and unsuccessfully evading all the X-Men and even the occasional Brotherhood member, she had snatched some kid's Yankees cap to cover her distinctive hair colour combination, taken off her jacket despite the unusually cool weather, and slumped her shoulders so she blended with the crowd.

Just ten minutes was all she was asking for, really. She didn't care if she was screaming her head off on a rollercoaster or throwing seeds into a trashcan behind the vending machines. She was beyond caring.

However, Lady Luck was feeling charitable that day and the line for the Ferris Wheel was unusually short and riders were just getting off.

Rogue cast a quick look over her shoulder and saw that she was, indeed, for the first time since Apocalypse, on her own. She jumped in the rabidly moving line.

"Just one?" the man in the booth asked.

"Just one," Rogue agreed, sighing in relief. Finally, she thought, _just one._

"Make that two, _mon ami,_"

Rogues eyes flashed in annoyance and her jaw clenched tightly, but she did not turn around, "_Just one,"_ she repeated to the greasy man under the wooden roof.

He looked a bit bewildered and nodded slowly pulling out a ticket.

"Just one..." he said.

"Two," Gambit said again.

"Two it is then…"

"_One," _Rogue gritted, not turning around.

"Okay…"

"_Two,"_

"Um…"

"ONE," she barked and grabbed her ticket from the man and helped herself to a seat. She silently dared the people on the seat behind her to say anything. The ride filled up quickly after that and much to Rogue's pleasure, Gambit was nowhere in sight.

She must've been half way from the top, waiting for those final people to be seated when something swooshed from behind—the tail end of a trench coat perhaps?—and the balance of the seat was thrown off almost entirely. For a brief second Rogue could only see the purple sky and the rest of the seats on the ride.

She slowly closed her eyes as Remy climbed down.

"D'aww, _chere,_ that wasn't too nice t' confuse th' ticket-man like that," he grinned and shimmied his way under the metal bar, uncomfortable close to Rogue for her liking.

Rogue sighed, making room for him, "Why do Ah even try?"

"Dunno really," he answered, flicking off her Yankees cap and letting her strange fringe fall free, "Kinda pointless isn't it?"

The Ferris Wheel was full and the ride began.

"Oh, hey look, I can see Scooter over there," Remy pointed below them.

"He doesn't look very happy," she mused, humouring him, "Think yah can make out what he's saying?"

Rogue was well aware that Scott was saying: "_Get down from there right now! You know he's the enemy!_" but Remy's dubbed version amused her a bit more.

"'Let's get it on right now? Quick, while we can make a getaway?' Hmm. Flattering." He said for only her to hear. "Thanks, Cyke, but Remy already be taken!" he shouted loudly enough for half the Ferris Wheel to hear as well as passers-by below.

Rogue couldn't help but grin at Scott's furiously flushed face as they began to ascend once again.

She even chose to ignore the fact that Remy had put his arm around her.

"Been well, _chere?_" he asked once they were approaching the top.

"All right," she answered with a shrug.

"Such a modest hero," he teased, pulling a cigarette box out of his pocket, "Remy saw y' go after Mr. Doom an' Gloom while he was away,"

"Remy wasn't there," she countered sharply with…was it resentment tainting her voice? Or disappointment?

A cigarette was lit, "Remy watches th' news," he said, inhaling, "Y' never know when a bunch o' mutant teenagers in spandex are gonna run around an' save th' world,"

Pause for Rogue to collect her thoughts, "Remy's gonna get cancer," she ripped the cigarette right out of his mouth and chucked it over her shoulder.

He exhaled one last breath of smoke and then smirked.

"It's a habit," he shrugged; he never took detours through denial.

"It's an _addiction_," she corrected and let out a short chortle, "Yah're probably too far gone and couldn't even quit if you wanted to,"

"You're an addiction," he said seriously.

"Ah'm a habit," she corrected, regarding him carefully, "Yah're used to seeing me around Bayville or in a head-to-head between the X-Men and Acolytes. Habit. Yah can associate cigarettes in any given location and go out of your way to buy a pack. Addiction."

"You're an addicting habit, then," he said.

She rolled her eyes, "You're hopeless,"

"But y' haven't given up all hope in Remy if you're still willin' to chuck his cigarettes in cotton candy machines,"

"Ah did not—!" she spun around, disbelieving, in the seat and looked behind.

Remy laughed, "Y' didn' hear th' thing blow a circuit? I don' think Kitty Kat'll ever be th' same again. Never knew th' girl had such a mouth on her,"

Rogue groaned and turned back around. For some reason she got the distinct feeling that Remy had given the cigarette the slightest charge so that it would cause a mild explosion to wherever it may land, cotton-candy machine or not. He did those things just to annoy her, really.

"Does anyone else ever notice," she said after a peaceful moment's silence that she almost regretted breaking, "That we're just kids?"

"M' twenty," he said gamely.

Rogue rolled her eyes, "If you learn to act yah're age, maybe I'll believe you one day. Ah'm almost eighteen and Ah've lost track of how many times Ah've almost gotten killed,"

"Y're a _femme très forte,"_

Four years of French lessons told her that he said she was strong woman and like the proverb went: _what doesn't kill you only makes you stronger_.

"We're kids that chose between good and evil on weekends, train like soldiers on school days, take hits for people who hate us, and we can still make time to go to the fair and act stupid," she shook her head, "An' people call kids irresponsible when you don't see us going around screwing up the world. Kids are the only thing keeping the damn thing together,"

"Well versed, Aristotle," he said, quirking his mouth slightly, "An' as much as I hate t' deflate your idea… if I do recall correctly, it was a kid—a kid who likes t' call herself Rogue—who let out Apocalypse an' nearly brought about th' end of mankind."

She shoved him away from her so sharply and there was at least a foot and half space between them.

"Get bent," she snapped.

Recovering quickly and adjusting himself to a more comfortable position, he said, "So this is why Roguey's been attracting th' mansion's attention then, is it?"

"Shut up," she glowered darkly.

"Call 'em as I see 'em, _chere,_" he shrugged noncommittally, "Y' can't tell Remy that th' ol' Prof doesn' acknowledge that y'all are just kids and chucked you outta th' mansion for th' evening t' go t' th' fair an' remember that, right?"

Rogue said nothing.

"An'—correct Remy if he's wrong—everyone's been walkin' on their tip-toes ever since they watched their teammate an' friend shove the world's most powerful mutant's sorry ass back into whatever form o' existence he had," he let the words sink in before continuing, "Y're powerful, anti-social, an' never talk about your problems until they blow up t' a catastrophic level. Can' blame 'em for bein' wary—s'normal."

She blew out gustily, "You let lose just _one _maniacal villain bent on world domination and you're branded for life."

Remy patted her back in a jokingly dotty way and said, "There, there, _chere. _There'll be other people in th' world who'll let loose th' next Apocalypse,"

"Let's just hope we'll be long dead an' don't have to deal with it," she muttered.

He nudged her, "That's th' spirit, _chere!"_

She shook her head and grinned lightly however soon it dropped.

"Don't patronise me," she said.

"Sorry," he said half-heartedly, "Habit,"

She didn't contradict him this time, "An' Ah put him back," she muttered moodily, "Don't Ah get brownie points for responsibility or something?"

"No brownie points in th' big leagues, m' afraid," Remy said with a slightly softer tone.

"Kids shouldn't be in the big leagues," she told him.

"Blame th' adults," he answered.

"You're almost an adult," Rogue raised her eyebrow.

"Keyword: _almost,_"

Rogue rolled her eyes, "An' as much as Ah love taking all the credit for nearly causing the end of the world, Ah _was _being controlled by Mesmero,"

He looked down at her and sighed deeply, "Remy knows y' just wanted an excuse to kiss 'im while being able t' claim being possessed. But really, _chere,_ y' didn' need to bring in the world's apocalypse just to get a kiss. Remy'd be willing to provide anywhere, anytime." He wagged his eyebrows suggestively.

Rogue rolled her eyes, "Sorry, Ah'll do well to remember that for next time,"

The ride must have been more than half over. It could only have been five to ten minutes but Remy had made her feel better than she had since Apocalypse. On their way down, Rogue saw half the X-Men assembled at the ride's exit.

For the first time, from an aerial and out-of-battle perspective, it really did seem crazy that _kids _like Kitty and Kurt who were so fun-loving and easy-going could actually be so adult-like and powerful. But from where she sat with Remy, seeing those two in uniform (they had made it a habit to carry them around more often) and looking so prepared to fight seemed ridiculous.

It was like seeing kids playing dress-up in a hero's wardrobe.

Rogue laughed as she nudged Remy's side and motioned to them with her thumb. For some reason he seemed less interested in them than he did with her.

"I don' think I've seen so many consecutive smiles from y' before," he mused, squeezing her shoulder.

"What can Ah say? I'm addicted," she answered.

"Or maybe it's jus' a habit y' associate wit' Remy,"

The sun had set about an hour before and all that was left was a trail of purple blazing across the sky with the stars skirting across a canvas of navy following not too far behind. Below it all lay the city of Bayville, alive in the dying lights.

Yet somewhere in between sat two southerners on the highest point of the Ferris Wheel, content in the other's presence.

**X  
****-:FIN:-**

**A/N:**

So here starts random ideas that are too short to be considered One-Shots but won't leave me alone until I get them written down. Feedback is always appreciated.

If you have any ideas or suggestions, let me know and I'll see what I can do.

(Psst, for those of you who don't know—a Southern Sour is an alcoholic beverage ;D)


	2. The White Picket Fence

"**Sweet Southern Sours"  
**_A Collection of_ ROMY _One-Shots_  
**By: **Liebling

"**The White Picket Fence"  
****Published On: **29 May 2011  
**Genre: **Humour  
**Summary: **The Professor signs the mansion's occupants up for volunteer work to show the good side of mutants. Professor Xavier however made the grave mistake of asking Remy and Rogue to choose a colour to paint the white picket fence…

X

"Volunteer work…" Kitty said slowly, "Like, why?"

"Because, Kitty," The Professor said tiredly after having explained the reasoning behind his actions for an umpteenth time. The entire institute had been called together Saturday after their group training session in Professor Xavier's office. "Using your powers to better the community would promote the greater idea of mutants living without registration and being able to freely use their powers to contribute to their surrounding environments,"

"But…_why?_" asked Bobby.

He sighed. "One week from today, _all _of you will be repairing the rundown Copperfield house on the outside of Bayville. You can see Logan for your work assignments."

"But that's a _Saturday!" _Jubilee complained.

"And therefore you won't have school," he said firmly.

"But—but," she continued, "That's a _Saturday!"_

"Dismissed," he said finally in exasperation. He would tell them later that they had to also be there Sunday.

X

Several days later, after a great deal of grumbling and personal schedule-rearranging, the students began to ease up on the idea of fixing up the old house. As long as the professor agreed not to give them any danger room sessions for three days.

"Ah don't exactly see how my powers are gonna help with construction," Rogue told Kitty with a tired frown as they walked from their previous Danger Room session with Logan. He appeared to making up for the three days they were about to miss.

"Refreshments?" she tried, wiping her sweaty forehead with the back of her sleeve.

Rogue gave her a dry look, "Ah don' do lemonade stands."

Kitty shrugged, "Well, phasing through stuff isn't going to help much either, so maybe I'll do that instead. Or do something that has a clipboard..." she trailed off thoughtfully, "You going to shower before dinner or eat now?"

"Food comes before hygiene in this place,"

She wrinkled her nose a bit at this, "Like, if you say so,"

They each turned a separate corner. Rogue descended the mains stairs just as Logan was taping something to the wall outside the kitchen door.

"Work assignments are up!" Logan barked in his usual tone.

The new recruits in the kitchen, the ones who didn't have a morning training session, curiously came out to take a peak.

"I have to _clean?_" groaned Amara.

"Sorry, princess," Roberto teased.

Rogue rolled her eyes before taking in the list. Looked like Kitty was going to get her clipboard after all. She was marked down with the corresponding title "Required Supplies Assessment". Jean and Scott would be leading separate teams to clean the inside and outside, others would be replacing poor construction, and a few would be picking out the interior and exterior designs. Rogue searched for her name.

"Paints and transportation," said Rogue slowly and tracing her finger along the line for her partner, "Paints and transportation," she repeated with a satisfied face that soon dropped as she read the rest of the line, "_…_with Remy,"

She could've seen that coming. Things had been going too good for her lately…the B-plus in her math quarter grade, the new CD to her favourite band, beating a new level of her program in the Danger Room…it was time for things to be shifted back into balance once again.

"_Oui, chere,_" breathed a southern voice from behind, "Paintin' is when y' take somethin' called a brush an'—"

"No one likes a smart ass, Cajun," she snapped.

He shrugged, "Jus' thought I oughtta clarify things for y'," Rogue hoped she would be able to make it out in time before Remy's mouth ran away with him again, but she unfortunately didn't move quick enough, "But Remy knows y' be likin' some o' his Cajun—"

"Ugh!" Rogue clenched her fists angrily and stormed off, mentally smearing that troublesome smirk off Gambit's face.

X

When the dreaded Saturday arrived, the young mutants dragged themselves out of bed at the horrible hour of seven o'clock and left the house by nearly eight.

Everyone stood outside the short fence of the house, bemused, as Scott stood on the back of the truck and started to direct everyone in his usual quick voice of authority.

"Let's move, X-Men!" he shouted to the motley-looking group of teenagers.

"Trust Cyclops to make a simple repair job like an overcomplicated rescue mission," muttered Rogue under her fringe as she walked up the truck where her partner for the task stood.

Logan was tossing out equipment like confetti and when she and Remy reached the front of the line he simply said, "Paint samples," and chucked a very heavy binder at Remy's stomach that he barely caught in time and still sent him stumbling backwards. "You've got twenty minutes to pick out all the sample colours we want to try on the outside of the house, including the fence. Then you're gonna drive the kids to the store to pick up sample-size buckets and whatever else the half-pint says we'll need while the rest start cleaning the inside." He handed Rogue, a little more gently, a pad of paper and a pen to write down the paint sample numbers.

"What about the inside of the house?"

"That's Jubilee and Rahne's job," he said, and then proceeded to throw a giant broom over their heads and Bobby who was in line behind them.

Remy plucked the pen from her gloved hands as they walked away. "Don' worry, _chere,_ Remy assures y' that he be a regular Michelangelo," he grinned as nimble fingers expertly twirled the pen like it was all they were born to do.

Rogue snorted and snatched the pen back, "That ain't gonna help us none since Michelangelo was a sculptor, not a painter,"

"Wrong, _chere_," he said bemusedly, "Forget th' Sistine Chapel?"

Rogue's face heated. "Whatever."

"S'okay, Roguey, Remy mixes up his renaissance artists too," he said an aloof sort of voice that suggested that he actually did not. Rogue decided to ignore this.

In the end they agreed, without argument surprisingly, that the shutters would be painted a nice navy and that the bricks that made up most of the house would have to be power washed beforehand. Maybe they would get Bobby to ice the whole thing and Amara melt it or something. The old home was fortunate enough to have a garden shed where the team would be storing all of their supplies should this event—heaven forbid—run over into a following weekend.

The trouble came when they stood in front of the fence that surrounded the front yard. The paint was chipped and pealed but the wood was surprisingly intact. They were going to have to clean off the old paint, Rogue realised, sighing.

"What's the code number for white?" she asked Remy who was holding the paint chip sample book.

Remy flipped through a couple pages before he stared at the book.

"Huh," he said.

"What?" groused Rogue, annoyed.

"Remy didn' know that there be so many dif'rent types o' whites," he sounded almost intimidated as he flipped through a countless number pages.

"Come on," said Rogue, rolling her eyes and making a grab at the book, "There can't be _that _many…oh," She couldn't find anything else to say.

His eyes and smirk screamed: 'I told you so'.

"Can it, Cajun," she said moodily, switching her gaze to the book for it did not stare back at her with onyx coloured eyes.

He chuckled, "Didn' say nothin',"

After a moment or two of staring at the paint samples in mild intimidation, Remy was the first to sigh. He reclaimed the book and flipped to a page somewhere near the beginning of the white section.

"Whaddabout _Corpse White?"_

Rogue sent him a look, "And yah say that _Ah'm _morbid?"

"Ain't it the same colour of that foundation y' use?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

He didn't get the insult or snappish reply like he expected, "Well, _jeez, _Remy," she said in an almost airy tone, "If yah wanted to borrow my make-up, all you had to do was ask. No need to be so sneaky 'bout it; we accept _all _kinds of mutants at the Institute."

"Funny, _chere, _funny," he rolled his red eyes before looking down and pointing out another sample, "What about…_Dear Penelope Paper White?_" tried Remy, showing her the sample that she accepted to be put under her scrutiny.

"Who the hell's Penelope?"

"Probably some hot _Home Depot _babe that got a lotta love letters from secret admirers that all shopped at th' same paper store—"

"Forget Ah asked," Rogue rolled her eyes, pulling the book out of his hands and sitting on the grass. She held it in her lap, "Um…_Ghost White?_" she tried as he joined her on the ground.

Remy snorted, "Ghosts don' exist," he said in an oddly serious voice and took the book back from its resting spot on her thighs.

Rogue's eyebrows nearly hit the sky, "Okay then," she said speculatively and wondered if was going to elaborate.

He sighed again, openly displaying his boredom, and flipped to a random page and dropped his finger on the page without looking and showed it to her.

Rogue stared, not amused, "_Old Woman's Hair White?_" She said distastefully, "What kind of colour is _that?_"

Remy scratched the bridge of his nose and looked at the colour title he hadn't even bothered to observe, "Sounds like it's the colour old ladies' hair turns when they get old," he said obviously, "Kinda like th' same colour as yer bangs,"

Rogue snapped her head to look at him, bringing a hand defensively to her forehead as if to feel the colour there, "Are yah saying that mah hair is the same colour of an old lady's?"

"Not Remy," he said all too innocently, "_Home Depot _did,"

She snatched the book away and snapped it shut, "Well _Home Depot _can stick its paint cans up its—"

"Language, Stripes!"

"—extra storage space," she finished lamely.

"Did you guys pick a colour yet?" asked a passing Kitty with a clipboard.

"_No,_" the southerners snapped.

"Oh, than could you guys do me a favour real quick—?"

"_No,_" Rogue said again forcefully.

"Jeez, like, don't bite my head off here, I was just asking,"

"_P'tite,_" Remy said with a dirty smile that he strictly used for only his Antagonise Rogue Plans, "Y' can ask anyt'ing o' Remy an' he'd be more than willin' t' comply," he winked.

Kitty rolled her eyes, pretending that her face wasn't bright red as she walked away (and very quickly once she caught sight of Rogue's glowering face).

"How about we just paint the damn fence with your Cajun blood instead?" Rogue suggested with a snarl.

"M' afraid that would be a bit too messy, _chere,_" he said, not intimidated as he leaned closer to her as if to share a secret, "An' as it is, m' blood ain't a shade o' white," he winked again.

Rogue fought the strong urge to claw out those cursed winking ebony eyes but settled for rolling her own instead and saying, "Ah'm gonna dance on yah're grave, Cajun,"

"I know y' always wanted t' be on top of me, _chere, _but I don't think that six feet between—"

She hit him upside the head without warning.

Remy touched his head, pouting, about to reply when:

"HEY WATCH OUT!" Someone hollered.

Remy and Rogue turned towards the house just in time to see Sam Guthrie flying towards them out of control. They scrambled out of the way, falling backwards, as half the fence was snapped out of the ground or splintered into hundreds of pieces.

There was shouting heard coming from the house. Rogue propped herself up on her elbows and Remy untangled himself from his trench coat in order to survey the full extent of the damage.

Sam looked horribly embarrassed as he crawled out of the small crater and stepped over a broken piece of wood.

"Sorry, ya'll," he said awkwardly, shaking pieces of fence out of his hair.

"It's fahne," Rogue sighed, standing.

"No blood, no foul," Remy added, remaining on the ground with his legs stretched out in front of him.

"We could just..." she kicked a plank of wood with her boot, "get rid of the fence all together..."

Remy surveyed the damaged before them.

"Sounds like a plan."

"YOU TWO!" shouted Kitty in a voice that could only be described as a housecat trying to sound like a tiger. "Why?" she demanded furiously, "Just—_why?"_ she stomped her foot.

"It wasn't _our_ fault!" they said together.

"If you had just _picked_ a paint sample then you could have been _done_ and you could have driven the younger students to the store by now!"

"Well it's all busted up now anyway," she said, "So it doesn't matter."

"Now we can lie in the sun for a couple hours," said Remy, preparing to lay back, looking as content as ever.

"You are both off the paint committee!" She hit Remy forcefully with her clipboard, "And I'm making Scott put you in charge of the lemonade and biscuits! How hard was it to just _pick—a—colour?_" Kitty screeched, waving her clipboard threateningly at Rogue.

"We couldn't decide what colour to paint the fence, _ma chatte,_" defended Remy promptly as Rogue skittered out of the way from Kitty.

"You guys couldn't decide what colour to paint a white picket fence?" Kitty clarified shrilly in disbelief, hand on her hips and clipboard glued to her side, "How hard is it just to pick a _white?_" she looked very near hysterical.

"But there is no _just _white!" Rogue said in exasperation.

Remy however flipped over the final page and pulled himself out of his slouching position on the grass, "Actually…there is," he passed the book over to Rogue and leaned over her shoulder to point at the last sample tile in the booklet.

White.

"You've gotta be kidding me,"

"I dunno," said Remy thoughtfully, "I t'ink I still prefer _Old Woman's Hair_—"

"UGH, shut _up!_"

**X  
****-:FIN:-**

**A/N:**

Har har, t'was fun indeed to write ^_^ Because everyone knows that Remy and Rogue could argue so passionately about what colour to paint ye old white picket fence.

Reviews are love!


End file.
